Once Upon A Time
by Sparklagal
Summary: Sometimes you meet someone who’s destined to change you. It doesn’t matter whether they’re friends, lovers, or even enemies. They stay with you. They teach you something that you needed to know; whether you wanted to know it or not. LoganJubilee
1. The Watched

Sometimes you meet someone who's destined to change you. It doesn't matter whether they're friends, lovers, or even enemies. They stay with you. They teach you something that you needed to know; whether you wanted to know it or not.  
  
I've met so many people like this, it's impossible to remember them all. I still probably retain whatever it was they taught me, but eventually their faces, once so sharp and detailed, tend to fade into the background. Eventually I forget them completely. That's what happens when you've been alive as long as me.  
  
There is one person, however, who I'm sure will never fade. It's been countless years since I knew her, but I can remember nearly every moment we spent together. I only had her for a short time. The love was always there, it's just neither of us had the brains to run with it. Or guts. I dunno. I regret not acting on it now.  
  
I can't say that I believe in soul mates per say. But I do believe that there are some people your meant to be with. Maybe one above all. Who knows? If there's one thing I believe it's that we humans (or mutants, as the case may be) shouldn't have the audacity to pretend we know the workings of cosmic beings. Sure I don't know who or what the divine is. But I do believe there is one. For one thing, I doubt I wouldn't have gotten this far if there wasn't someone up there looking after me. Plus it'd be way to depressing to go around knowing that you have control of your life. Jesus. Doubt I'd be around if that was the case.  
  
I got sidetracked. Anyway, I guess I better start out the traditional way. This is a story about how I found the love of my life, and let her slip away. It's a story of broken dreams, broken hearts, and those who do their best to mend them. This is a story of a little firecracker who tamed and loved an old man who probably didn't deserve it. But most of all, it's a story of how that old man learned to really love again, after countless broken hearts, and like all good stories, it begins with a "Once upon a time."  
  
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Logan ran. It was all he could do. His legs ached from the hours of running at top speed. He had gotten used to the burning stitch in his side and the cramps running up and down his legs. Blood had congealed on his forehead from the many scratches he received from the branches he pushed through. The cold air jumped down his throat and nipped at his windpipe. He ignored all of this. He deserved it. He deserved every torment, every pain he'd ever had. A broken sob racked his body. What had he done?  
  
When he couldn't run anymore he dropped. He didn't slow down, just dropped where he was. His forward momentum carried him along a few feet, earning him new bruises, scratches and cuts. He lay there, wheezing in the dirt, not having the heart to move. Tears streaked down his filthy cheek, cleaning small lines through the grime and blood. He lay there, letting his body heal slowly, and painfully. He wished that he could just turn off his factor and let himself slowly bleed his life out.  
  
He sat up, calm face except for the bloodshot, teary eyes. He looked at his hands, small pink scars from his claws. Logan growled and popped them. Enjoying the pain. He had done monstrosities with these claws, but nothing so bad as this. The great Wolverine's lower lip trembled. A whimper broke his façade completely. He squeezed his eyes closed, practically invisible lines making themselves known at his grimace. Baring his teeth in disgust he dropped his head.  
  
He now had to decide where to go. They would never accept him at the mansion now, and he wouldn't want to go back. He couldn't stand to be around them. They'd be cold. Especially her. They'd hate him, knowing that he couldn't keep control of himself. Knowing that his self-control was shit. Knowing that he was nothing but an animal. A dumb, violent, evil animal.  
  
He rose. His eyes were a bit harder, his mouth more down-set, and his brows gaining more of a permanent furrow. If anyone had watched him throughout the course of his life, they would notice this happened every time he lost someone he loved. His eyes had gradually become permanently cold, his mouth in a snarl and his face all together miserable. He would get over this, as he had all his prospective or otherwise mates. He always did. But his spirit always suffered.  
  
Jean didn't know this, but when she had turned down his desperate plea for love, she had killed any fragment of hope left in Logan's being. The man that the inhabitants of the mansion had come to know and care for was gone. Wolverine was all that was left.  
  
He took a deep breath and decided. His cabin. He'd go there. The solitude would be good for him. He could get in touch with his darker side, maybe make peace with himself. It was unlikely, but possible.  
  
So he fled his old life, back to an even older one. Soon, the birds that had been disturbed with his passing began to sing again, and the only thing that showed he had been there were his flecks of blood and his imprint in the dirt. An onlooker could compare this to his leaving the mansion, but there was no onlooker. Nobody cared for the Wolverine.  
  
R&R please! My plot bunnies live on praise, They use flames for bunny- litter. So either way I need reviews. 


	2. The Watcher

Once Upon a Time By Sparklagal Disclaimer: I don't own anything, not even the plot bunnies! I swear, they come and go as they please!  
  
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Jubilee brushed a strand of hair from her face and stepped back from her canvas to view her work. Bright colors covered the upper left edge of the canvas, down lower in the bottom right dark angry colors reminiscent of blood and death lingered. The space in between the two was filled by a gray void.  
  
She frowned. Not what she wanted. She took a paintbrush and tried to fill in the void between the two, expanding the space they took up. On the first brush stroke she recoiled and quickly painted it over with gray.  
  
In an act of frustration she ripped the hair band holding back her short hair out. It broke. She muttered angrily as she went to look for a new one. She had been working on the painting for over five years, having started soon after she left the X-men.  
  
Jubilee closed her eyes as the memory struck a chord. Her mouth twitched in annoyance. She still couldn't think about that day without becoming upset. She shook her head, resolving not to think about it anymore.  
  
Jubes went into her room and pulled open a drawer. While digging around until she found a hair tie, her hand hit a piece of paper. She frowned and pulled it out. The moment she saw it she threw it back in angrily and decided to look elsewhere for the renegade hairpiece.  
  
The faded, ripped photo floated back down to the bottom of the drawer. Two happy people grinned out of it. Well, at least Jubilee was grinning. Logan was snarling, though it happened to be a happy snarl.  
  
Jubes gave her own impression of a snarl as she slammed the drawer shut. She really didn't need to think about that right now. She didn't need the painful reminders about how horrible a screw up she was.  
  
She went to her bedside table. After tearing through the drawer and the wiping the debris off the top she searched under the bed. Blindly groping she caught a piece of cloth. She of course regretted this immediately.  
  
After all, she had put he Stetson under the bed for that very reason, so she didn't have to see it. She stuffed it back under and gave up the search. Who knew what other memorabilia was around. Her yellow raincoat, something she hadn't donned in over 3 years. The letters Remy had tried to get her to respond to, the letters from Logan that Remy had forwarded.  
  
She rubbed at the tears that blurred her vision and walked back to the painting.  
  
"Damn you Logan." She whispered as she dropped to her knees before the painting that was supposed to be she and him.  
  
"Damn you for all this pain you've caused."  
  
She painted black across his corner.  
  
"Damn you for being so blind."  
  
She painted white across hers.  
  
"Damn you for not needing me." She collapsed and dropped the paintbrush, letting it stain the carpet with the acrylic still clinging to its bristles. She sobbed quietly.  
  
"And damn me for needing you so damned much."  
  
She lay for a while, then rose, wiping the remaining tears from her cheek. She picked up the brush, dipped it in the appropriate color, and began the painting over. Exactly as it had been.  
  
Maybe a the bright colors were a bit dimmer, and the dark ones a bit angrier. But it didn't matter to her, she was the only one who cared. The only one who'd ever see it.  
  
The only onlooker, if you will. 


	3. Little Blonde Hussy

Once Upon a Time  
  
By Sparklagal  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
  
A/N: GULU GULU! BWAHAHAHAHA!!! Oh god that's wonderful... ::wipes tears from eyes::. Anyways, Gulu Gulu is the scientific terminology (whew big words) for wolverines.... AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! ::falls off chair::  
  
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Excerpt from The Haines Junction Gazette:  
  
... In the peacefulness of the Canadian forest a monster lurks. Already three lives have been taken to its ghastly bloodlust. Bodies found have shown signs of a struggle with an immense animal. Long sweeping claw marks have been found up and down the corpses. Traces of an unidentified metal has been found on all of the bodies, as well as a short, course, black hair.  
  
Police have said that survivors, though clearly have been driven mad by horror, said that it was a werewolf that had attacked them. Police are puzzled, "The hair is like that of a wolverine (Gulu gulu). The claws, however, cannot be identified, they seem to be like that of a bear, only much longer and stronger, as they cut straight through bone." Later the idea that wolverines were behind this was discarded, as they have been hunted to near extinction in this area.  
  
It is suggested that people not travel alone and without proper protection. Walking or hiking in the woods is not suggested. If you see or find any signs of this creature, please contact the Haines Junction Police...  
  
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Jubilee swung open the bar door. Men glanced over at her entrance and the barmaids and prostitutes gave her the evil eye for letting in the cold air. Jubilee chuckled for the first time in a while.  
  
'They must be cold what with wearing the scraps of cloth they called clothes.' Jubilee thought wryly to herself. Even bundled up in twelve plus layers she was getting most of the appreciative glances that the room held.  
  
The young Asian woman plopped her down on her normal bar stool. She ordered a soda from the barkeep and shed her plush, gore-tex winter jacket. There was no getting around the fact that even after 11 years in a less-than-warm climate, she still couldn't stand the cold. She grabbed the soda greedily and sipped the caffinated beverage greatfully. Her love of any manner of sugar or caffine was another thing left over from her SoCal Mallrat days.  
  
Elle, a barmaid sidled up to her and took a seat. Elle was one of the few people in the little shoot-off of Haines Junction that talked to Jubes. This was strange, because Elle really didn't like anyone that much. She was one of the more desired women at the bar, but kept to herself and was known to promise bodily harm if a man got too close. She was also known to keep her promises.  
  
"So, I was workin' the graveyard two nights ago, in comes Larry with this little blonde number and ordered champagne!" As always, Elle started off her conversation with gossip.  
  
Jubilee played along "Larry Farstein or Larry DeLeon?"  
  
"Larry Farstien of course! Larry DeLeon prefers the company of men If you know what I mean." Elle rolled her eyes in a 'well duh!' –like manner. "Anyways, it turns out that his wife thinks that he's out playin' pool with the guys. And I'll tell you, the way they stumbled out I doubt he was playin' 'pool' with any guys. Though he was shoving some sort of cue into a pocket if you know what I mean. 


End file.
